


No Sound but the Wind

by AmericanEireann



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Post-Undertale Genocide Route, Sad, The world is ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 17:59:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8111956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmericanEireann/pseuds/AmericanEireann
Summary: Frisk won the battle with Sans. He goes to Grillby's afterwards, knowing he's failed, knowing that Chara is bringing about the end of the world, and needing a shred of comfort before it all goes dark.





	

Sans stumbles into Grillby’s, blood leaking through his clothing, his eyes dim. He’s pressing one hand into the wound on his stomach, but it’s doing little to staunch the bleeding. There is rapidly melting snow on his hands from where he’d crash-landed into the ground in front of the restaurant. He staggers into the bar, where he leans heavily, somehow still trying to look casual despite the fact that he’s barely conscious.

“Sans! What happened?” you say urgently, scrambling up from your seat.

“that kid… they’re really… not good,” he pants.

“Yeah, no kidding, they’ve emptied out most of the Underground,” you mutter distractedly, evaluating his injuries. Christ. “You’re going to die if we don’t get these cuts sealed up in a hurry. C’mon, buddy,” you say gently. “I’m going to pick you up, is that okay?”

Sans can’t make himself focus on your face, his vision going double as his consciousness seeps away.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes. Grillby, let’s get him upstairs. Please tell me you have some kind of medical supplies up there,” you say, sliding your arms behind Sans’ neck and knees and scooping him up into a bridal-style carry. You try to be careful, but he still lets out a groan of pain, and you wince sympathetically.

You follow Grillby up the stairs behind the bar, his crackling form lighting the passageway with ghostly, indistinct shapes. He beckons you into the bedroom, where you set Sans down and quickly gather the bandages and supplies Grillby is offering from a small cabinet in the corner.

“s’no good, y’know. soon enough… nothin’ left,” Sans mumbles. You feel a shudder pass through your body at his words.

“Shh, it’ll be okay,” you whisper. “You’re gonna be okay. You’ll be cracking terrible jokes at me again in no time.”

Sans smiles weakly at you. “you love my jokes,” he says. “don’t even lie.” 

You struggle to return the smile because the truth of the matter has finally sunk in: you can’t heal him. You can’t heal him and he’s dying. You have bandages, but what good are they when there’s no flesh to bind up? The blood is pouring from everywhere and from nowhere, and you can see the lights in his eyes flickering, and there’s nothing to be done.

“Sans,” you whisper. “I can’t, I’m so sorry. I love you.”

“love you too,” he whispers. He shudders in your arms, and the bone and cloth pressed against your fingers give way to dust and ash. 

Grief steals the breath from your lungs, as it was so recently stolen from Sans. You still haven’t recovered it when the universe goes black.


End file.
